Mystery At Horsham House
by Chakotay1
Summary: An 18th century Mystery novel, that i attempted to write. So please tell me what you think. :
1. Chapter 1

The deep black clouds growled in the dark night air, the rain fell heavily, falling on the silhouette of a dark figure as it crept slowly and unseen through the shadows. Moving closer and closer to the mansion that was in obscurity, bar one small light in the kitchen.

Jane pottered about her kitchen with nothing but her lamp to keep away the night. She had just made herself a light supper and lifted the tray as she carried it up the stairs to her cold bedroom. Each step creaked under her soft footfall as she scaled the grand staircase up to the second level. The ball of light radiating from the lamp jumping along the walls of the hall then blocked by the heavy oak door of Jane's room. She set the tray down on the dresser and changed into her nightgown. She got into her Four-poster bed with silk curtains gently hanging from the wooden joists. The sudden creak that filled the house made her jump, as she remained still so as to hear any further noises. Non followed, and the noise was quickly dismissed from her mind as she finished her supper, placed the tray on the table next to her, and slowly slipped further down into the warmth of her bed. She fell into her usual deep sleep not even waking to the sound of creaking as it echoed once more.

Jane woke the next morning to hear the familiar sounds of the day. The wind was blowing and the rain was still beating down on the window pain. She washed herself and changed before descending the staircase down to the ground floor. A cold wind blew past her cheek. Although the house was usually prone to draughts nothing as strong as this. She hurried through the Hall doors into the kitchen where shards of glass lay on the floor.

The day had gone much as usual for Charles. He woke just as he had slept, without a case. It had been but 3 weeks since he had become a private detective and his only case had been the loss of a farmer's herd of sheep. He went into his office and sat behind his desk. He lent back in his leather chair and placed his hat over his eyes. A sudden knock at the door made him jump. "It's open!" He shouted. A tall young lady walked through the door; She had long brown hair, and a black cloak that draped to the floor. "Are you Mr Wilford?"

"Indeed I am Mrs…"

"Horsham, and it's miss actually"

"I'm sorry Miss Horsham. How can I be of service to you?"

"Something strange happened at my house, Last night after I had gone to bed, I heard a banging followed by silence which I ignored. When I awoke this morning and went to the kitchen I saw a window broken but the strange thing is that nothing is missing."

"Are you quite sure that there is nothing missing my dear?"

"All the valuable items are still in their place and I cannot think of anything else that is worth being stolen. I was wondering if you would come to my House and take a look."

"Of course. When would you like me to arrive?"

"I have some business to attend in town firstly. I won't be back until tonight. Come to Horsham house at 8pm."

"Of course my dear Miss Horsham, tonight it is." She walked out of the door closing the door silently behind her. He reached into his drawer and retrieved a large brown smoking pipe. He filled it with tobacco and lit it. The smoke rising gently into the bitter air dispersing into nothingness.

Eight O'clock arrived sooner than Charles expected. He donned his raincoat and hat as he walked out into the harsh weather. The rain beat down on his raincoat and dripped off the rim of his hat. Thunder rolled deeply in the bowels of hell that night as he walked along the now lamp lit streets. The light only slightly piercing the thick haze of rain. He walked down a small road and came to the large gates of Horsham House. He pushed back the gate as its hinges creaked in protest. He walked through the thick fog hugging the thicket underfoot. He approached the house; a sudden crack of thunder illuminated it. The brief flash almost animating the ornate gargoyle perched on the edge of the eves. He climbed the large steps cut into the stone foundation. He pulled back the doorknocker and released it. A few seconds later the door opened to reveal Miss Horsham beckoning him inside. He hurriedly obliged. "Ah Mr Wilford. I was beginning to think that you would not come with weather like this"

"Ah but you see my dear Miss Horsham, I never let down a client" His raincoat dripping on the immaculately polished hardwood floor.

"Come let me take your wet clothes and dry them over the fire in the study" She walked towards one of the many doors that adorned the walls of the Hall like mere paintings in comparison with the sheer size of the room. Mr Wilford followed the metal tips of his soles gently tapping the on the flooring. Miss Horsham opened the door to reveal a large room. Bookcases lined the walls; a large fireplace was against the far wall. The light from the flames within making the shadows dance about the walls. Two large leather chairs sat in front of the heat. "Come Mr Wilford, take a seat" Mr Wilford obliged and took a seat leaning back into the embrace of the warm leather. "So to get to business Miss Horsham. You say that you heard a loud noise in the middle of the night?"

"Yes. I had just got into bed for the night when I heard a noise. I listened to see if it was anything, but quickly dismissed it as I hear a lot of noises being in this house alone."

"You also say that nothing is missing."

"Well from what I can see there is nothing missing. All my valuables are as I say in their rightful places."

"Would you mind if I took a look at the scene of the crime?"

"Of course not. Come this way"

They both rose out of the chairs and headed back through the door from whence they came. They emerged again into the cavernous room that was the Hall. When he came into the kitchen all he saw was the same shards of glass that had startled Miss Horsham that morning. Mr Wilford examined the debris carefully and with a seeming air of knowledge.

"Yes. To most people this would seem like a mere act of vandalism. However from the state of cleanliness that you obviously enjoy maintaining I would say you would not leave mud on your kitchen floor. Yet here there is mud, and if you follow it carefully you can see that it goes up to the door. I would say that someone entered your house looking for something." He walked through the door to which the mud led. It stopped on the other side. "Ah it would seem that the trail has stopped."

"Ah yes that may have been me when I cleaned the floors, I did not think. Oh dear"

"Not to worry my dear, you were not to know" He stood up straightening his back, his brown furrowed in thought.  
"Would you mind if I had a smoke Miss Horsham?"

"No, go right ahead Mr Wilford" He pulled his pipe from his top pocket and a box of matches from his moleskin waistcoat. He stood there silent for a while, thinking slowly puffing plumes of smoke into the air. He stroked the slight stubble on his face and then walked towards the door to the main Hall. He walked through it closely followed by Miss Horsham. "Do you lock these doors at night?"

"The ones downstairs I do yes, my father always did that, I guess it was one of his idiosyncrasies that I picked up."

"So therefore, if the intruder would have had no choice but to go up the main staircase."

"Hmm I never thought of it like that" The darkness had set in and now the only light in the Hall was from the small candles on the banister posts. "Well My dear Miss Horsham I am afraid that the past few nights has left me quite exhausted. I must retire for the night and ponder the case when the day is fresh. I will call tomorrow when light will be more abundant."

" Of course Mr Wilford. I will retrieve your coat from the study." She hurriedly scuttled into the study and came back but a few moments later laden with his heavy raincoat.

"Thank you" As he placed his coat on and left through the large front door.

As he walked down the long driveway back to the gate and onto the sodden pavement beyond, the weather was getting worse, the rain was still pouring and the thunder still rolling. He walked the route back to his office made one last check that everything was secure then once again went outside into the harsh weather. As he was walking, the rain was hitting his face and the case was slowly whirring around the mechanism of his mind. He was vainly trying to make sense of the facts. However he knew that he would not be able to do a thing without all the facts he could muster. He arrived at his small apartment, placed his key into the cold wet lock and opened the door. He was met by not so much a warm air, but more of a less cold one. He lit the oil lamps and removed his dripping coat and placed it on the coat stand, by the hearth. He lit the newspaper underneath as the small match invoked a chain reaction of fire to be unleashed. The fire lit and heat emanated from it. Charles rubbed his hands together and placed them above the fire. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled down the door and removed the glass stopper of a large bottle of brandy. He took in the scent and poured himself a glass. He then sat down in his chair in front of the now roaring fire until his glass was empty and the fire has burnt out. He then wearily traipsed up to his bedchamber and was into his sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Charles awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the bright orange glow of the sun glaring through his rather dirty window pain. He went down into the kitchen and lit the stove. The clock struck the hour of 10. He sat to the table and lit his pipe. He lent back in the chair and puffed smoke into the cold morning air. He thought for a few moments before deciding to get changed into his usual attire and go to buy the morning paper. He put on his shirt and brown trousers, fastened them up with his braces and polished his shoes before walking downstairs to get his now dry raincoat. He took his hat off the hat- stand and opened his front door out into the noisy atmosphere of the day.

The street was busy and people went about their daily business. As the metal sole on his shoe tapped lightly on the stone floor he made his way to the newsagents. The bell above the door rang as he separated the door from its wooden frame.

"Ah good morning Mr Wilford," Mr Jones said. "And what can I do for you this fine winters morning"

"Just came in to get the newspaper Mr Jones." Charles replied, smiling.

He picked up a newspaper off the shelf and placed it onto the counter, and paid Mr Jones.

"Thank you Mr Wilford, and a good day to you sir"

"You too Mr Jones, have a nice day"

He left the shop, placing his newspaper under his arm and his hands in his pockets.

He returned home and a warm air met him as the fire had stoked up and was roaring. He placed a pan of water on the stove to boil and sat to the table reading the newspaper. The usual barrage of gossip and propaganda met him on the front page. But today one story stuck out from the page, "Theft From Local Manor House" He read the article, only to find that the article was as inaccurate as normal. The article stated, "No clues were found, and Miss Horsham was letting the theft go unanswered" The paper had turned the article into a plea for the police to play a greater role in protecting society. "Where are the police when we need them?"

Water splashed onto the top of the hot stove and quickly evaporated. He put the paper onto the wooden table and took the pan off the stove. He made himself a cup of steaming hot coffee and sat again to read the rest of the morning news.

Inside Horsham house Jane was sat in the kitchen, next to the warm stove. The sun shone through the window, but none of its heat was in the air today. She got up and walked across to the sink. She kept wondering why someone would break into her house. She looked high up on the wall at the mounted picture. It portrayed a landscape picture of the house many years before. Next to the picture was a portrait of her great grandfather, the builder of the house. " Don't worry granddad, we will find out, How I wish dad had not passed away when he did. He would know what to do. It's all so baffling." She calmly realised that she was talking to a picture. " Oh dear, I must be going senile," she said to herself with a slight smile, which rippled the left side of her face. She made her way back up to her room, and opened the large doors to her wardrobe. She got changed and went downstairs to begin the day's chores.

Charles was staring out of the window, looking at the clouds slowly flowing across the sky. The suns rays occasionally piercing the thick blanket. He decided to return to Horsham house and look around in the light of day. He tidied his cup away, and again donned his coat and hat, as he left the house, locking the door before emerging onto the busy street.

As he walked along the streets, he felt that there was something amiss, something not quite right about this sunny morning, yet he could not quite put his finger onto what it was.


End file.
